


And all this armor around me might just hide the breaks

by microphoneMessiah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Sadstuck, Sexism, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microphoneMessiah/pseuds/microphoneMessiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt taken: "karkat/fem!gamzee~ karkat’s been ignoring gamzee lately and she doesn’t know what to do~ she tries commiting suicide and karkat walks in~"</p><p>Gamzee just wants a little pale assistance when the road gets rough, but things aren't getting better. They aren't getting better at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And all this armor around me might just hide the breaks

It’s been boring as fuck, bro. As of late, your bestest motherfucking moirail hasn’t been paying you much attention and it’s been starting to get kinda old. Not that you’re mad at your bro or nothin’, but it’d be cool if he didn’t run off like a frightened clawbeast every time you try to talk with him. Honestly, you don’t even know what you motherfuckin’ did to him to make him so damn scaredy all of the sudden. You’ve tried pestering him about it to try and make some motherfucking sense of the matter, but he’s always busy or away.

You’re starting to get kinda desperate. 

Fuck, you even tried soliciting Tav as a one-night pale kind of thing, but you could tell he wasn’t digging it. Little bro just kept staring at your tits. Whatever, it don’t really bother you none, but you’re pretty sure he was trying to be a little more sneaky about it, so you don’t say nothin’.

Can’t say you didn’t purposely crane the honkers infront of his face a few times to see his face get all flustered and shit. Cute as fuck. But, you’re pretty sure moirails are supposed to jam about feelings and not just stare with glazed eyes at their moirail’s behind while their moirail picks something up off the floor.

Okay, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t purposefully thrown some extra shit on the floor before he came.

Either way, you were currently down a moirail at all the wrong moments. Life had handed you bit of a tough one to swallow this week and, man, it wasn’t going down easy. If you weren’t so down right depressed right now, you’d laugh at that righteous sexaphor there, but you couldn’t even manage to get a teensy bit of your chuckle on. Damn, it was kinda lonely as fuck without your angry bro. Sure, he had asked for you to stop clinging to him so much and to refrain from rubbing your wicked ass rack against the side of his head, but he at least seemed to enjoy hanging with you. Now, it was mostly just you and occasionally that creepy motherfucker, Equius. You liked to webcam chat with him sometimes, but the amount of towels in his room had kinda pushed you back from getting to comfortable with him.

That leaves you where you are now. On top of a short stool, rope dangling in the shape of a noose by your head. You haven’t put it on yet, but you can’t think why you wouldn’t.

No one likes you.

The other girls think you’re a slut because regardless of the fact that your genetics gave you this body, and you were finally proud of it, they resented your sexuality. Resented the fact that you didn’t just sit in your hive blushing over a guy and took charge. Resented the fact that you didn’t give a fuck about whether or not you fitted into a clique or a posse and were free to do whatever up and motherfuckin’ moved you.

But, your resolve could only last so long. Words traveled faster than the brain could process how such lies and slander could eventually break you. Shatter every last fiber of your apathetic exterior leaving you cracked and taunted by so many inner demons. They picked on your insecurities and held a chokehold on all the peace you formerly had.

The bitch. Slut. Whore. She fucked him twice for that soda she always drinks. I bet she’s contracted one hell of a tally list for STDs. Who could love a chick that fucks anything that moves? Who could love a chick that thinks she’s the hottest shit to ever grace the fucking world? Fucking hate that ugly ass bitch.

It stings you so hard too because you thought that maybe things were getting better. But, you were just shunned by the few friends you did have.

No one likes a slut.

And all the horrible things they said that started as lies started to feel true. You lost track of time as you spun further into your addictions. Eventually you start believing it all. Believing that you are the most despicable excuse for a women to ever have the error of being born.

You lower the noose around your neck as you think of all the ways you must have fucked things up with everyone. Voices tear at your mind, taunting and leering. 

Grand Highslut.

You can feel yourself cry but you don’t know if it’s from the thought of leaving your moirail behind to clean up the mess or if it’s from joy for finally being able to find that eternal peace you were after.

A shaky shuffle towards the edge.

He deserved so much better than the fuck up that you were. Didn’t deserve to get caught up in all the motherfuckin’ bullshit that followed you.

Just one more and you can finally let it all go.

“Don’t you dare make one more fucking move on that stool or I swear to whatever holy juggalo god you believe in, I’ll…I’ll!” And you hear your moirail’s voice falter than, obviously unsure what to really say.

You smile bitterly at him, “You’re gonna all up and do what, motherfucker? Kill me? Give me a sec, I’ll do it my motherfuckin’ self. Might as well lessen the burden I’ve been puttin’ on you.” And with that you take the final step.

The first thing you feel is the rope tightening around your neck followed by the sudden lack of air. Your body reacts by thrashing a bit before you assume that death over takes you.

Weird thing about being dead though? It feels a hell of a lot like being kissed by a motherfucker. And like, you guess that must be the kiss of death or something, but you wonder why the Messiahs decided to present death to you in the form of your moirail brother. And also, why they made his kisses seem so flushed instead of the pale ones on the cheek you remember.

“Because you’re not dead, you ignorant ass flaunting tool.”

Oh. Well, that doesn’t explain the kisses though. You ain’t never heard no story about a motherfucker saving a sis from death with a kiss. Okay, besides that one story with the 7 imps that Tav showed you a little while back. That was actually a pretty damn good read and the prince was chill as fuck.

“Sure, you can be Troll Snow White as long as you don’t try anything like that again. Do you understand me? Please give me some indication that you’re understanding that this is kind of a fucking serious situation is happening here.”

You pout with a nod of your head.

“Don’t nod your head with the noose still around your neck! Are you still trying to kill yourself? I swear to God I will pap your ass until you are ass-less. Everywhere you go you’ll have to lay down instead of standing up because you will not have any rump to sit on. They will make fake rump charities solely in your honor, but all the rumps they give you will just vanish because of how hard I will have papped your ass right now.”

And regardless of all the bullshit you had been dealing with before, you some how still manage to crack a smile because, damn, look at him motherfucking go. His face is all flushed like Tav’s as he’s yelling, probably from all the anger that’s spewing out of his fuzzy head, but his tone ain’t sharp. Pretty motherfucking gentle actually in comparison to how much he’s cursing out your ass from here to far space.

Huh, really looking at him now, he looks scared. A fuck ton of relieved too, but still pretty scared. Man, you weren’t trying to be all up and doing that. You knew he’d probably take it pretty hard, but you didn’t motherfuckin’ expect this. 

What do you do? Uh, aw, shit. You really weren’t prepared for the situation where you actually do live and he stumbles into all this. Maybe you could, uh.

You try to pap him back and he stares at you, tiny pricks of red tears welling in the corner of his eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Just…can you please come to me next time? I know I was being a huge fucking dick and avoiding you was probably one of the shittiest things a moirail can do, but fuck, some of that shit just got to me. I needed to clear my head for a bit and sort a lot of stupid feelings out and I left you alone. That was bad. Like, that was astronomical Ms. Douchebag of the Universe Pageant bad. But, if you give me a chance to do better than the unadulterated failure that was past me…I’d really like to give this whole thing another chance. I really fucking care about you, okay? And I’m probably the most ignorant piece of shit on this whole fucked up planet for not realizing that before now.”

Damn.

And you really aren’t sure what else to think before that. The brother had been being a shitty moirail, but fuck you really couldn’t blame him. And he looked so hurt too, all vulnerable as he waited for some sorta response to that miracle of a declaration. You really couldn’t handle all this on your own. Maybe. Man, maybe he could help you unload some shit and just breath.

“Yeah, bro. I’d like that.” And he snatches you up in his arms and in the best pale hug to ever exist in the history of pale hugs.

“Good. And my first step in the multi-step How Not To Fuck This Up plan is to go kick some fuckers’ asses for pushing you to this.” His tone is snarling as he starts pulling you towards the door. You don’t let him move you though.

“Naw, motherfucker. Ain’t gotta fight hate with more hate. I ain’t lookin’ for a kismesister right now.” He grunts at that, letting go of you to cross his arms.

“I’m not trying to set you up, I’m trying to pull a Pyrope here and bring some ‘JUST1C3’.” You just shake your head at that, pushing him towards your horn pile.

“Let’s just have a feelings jam. I wanna leave some of this baggage at the damn airport of Shitty Luggage to Carry, so let’s get talkin’.” He looks like he’s about to protest but instead resigns himself to sit on your horn pile with you. 

After you both settle in, it’s kind of awkward. You both never really had a moment like this before and the unease of the situation settles around you. Neither sure who should start or what to even start with.

“So…How does this go? Do I just tear off the big heart on my sleeve and shove it into your pie-riddled face for inspection or what?”

You chuckle at him before grinning. “We can do that. Or we can talk about whatever. Like, I can tell you this shit that happened with Tavbro, man, that had me motherfuckin’ dyin’.”

Karkat shoots you a look.

Oh. Dying. Heh, right.

“Or you could tell me about what’s going down in your life since we last left off.” You figure that’s as good a place to start as any and he seems to agree.

“Okay, sure. Then what?”

You honk. “Then we can paint our nails opposite colors and compare boobs.”

He doesn’t seem to be nearly as amused at that as you are.

“Only you would say shit like that after being on the brink of death. You must really be some kind of special that God has graciously slapped me in the face with as I prayed for miracles on bended knees.” And Karkat’s tone is soft as a smile plays on his faces.

The two of you jam for hours and somewhere in that time you form a diamond with your hands.

You may be a bitch. A slut. Or whatever else they want to hurl at you, but you’ve got the best damned new armor around.

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of feelings for this pale pairing, okay?


End file.
